Dungeon 42

The Rusty Daggers

Chapter 165

Sign boards were fairly common, but the ability to read the listings wasn't. Jarod paid a girl a coin to read to him, ignoring when Daren of the Red Sun company arrived to snatch up the adverts he favored.

"Ass," Jarod muttered at the man’s retreating back. The girl giggled and rolled her eyes. She was little, but dressed a bit better than most peasant children, her ability to read likely helping her family make ends meet better than most.

"What's the one he took say?" Jarod asked. Daren was a lot of things, most of them insufferably pretentious, but stupid wasn't on the list. He'd pick good jobs.

"Dunno, but I've another," the girl said, reaching to a box behind the board. She withdrew another bit of paper. It had the same fancy squiggles around the edge as the other.

Looking for adventurers. Possible dungeon near town in mountain valley. Treasure possible, danger certain, local guild looking for members to investigate.

"What guild?" Jarod asked, finding that confusing. Guilds always had money, even in small villages, but that wouldn't necessarily make it profitable. He liked a decent upfront fee rather than relying solely on salvage. He didn't understand why weavers, tanners, or whatever would want members to look into it.

"The adventurers guild," the girl replied.

"The what?" Jarod asked. The girl turned the paper over, revealing more on the back—odd since none of the ink had bled through.

"Lorel Mountain Adventures Guild, now recruiting. Low boarding fees, training opportunities, butchering services, and more," The girl read. There was a drawing of a map on the back side along with that information. It wasn't the best he'd ever seen, but more than sensible enough to make finding the place relatively simple.

"Thanks," Jarod said, handing the girl a copper. He'd paid her fee, but it never hurt to keep in the good graces of someone literate. Gods knew none of the rest of his group were. The lot of them were like him, slum kids and second sons of sharecroppers—the rusty dagger lads, as they called themselves.

The name was mostly a joke. They didn't have fine enough manners or good enough equipment to take jobs from better-paying sources that cared about things like that. Their roster also shifted in the wind. Everyone came and went as they pleased, Jarod always on the hunt for talent to keep them at a size able to make decent money.

The Red Sun company wasn't like that. They had fancy names and could make deals with even fancier people. Something they never hesitated to rub in everyone else's faces. Still, Jarod wasn't one to poach a job usually, but this one would be an exception.

Unlike a regular job, a dungeon didn't follow any rules. You went if you had the guts and returned if you were lucky. As many as wanted could try them out, rather than having to get the approval of the person posting a job. More importantly, though he'd never faced off against one himself, dungeons were said to yield profits even for those who only explored them shallowly.

Last Stop, the post town where his group had decided to rest for the night, was small. Jarod returned from the signboard to the inn in just a few minutes. The rest of the rusty daggers sat down to the cheapest dinner the establishment offered, a stew with most of the solid bits already scooped out to better-paying customers. It did come with bread, though, and wasn't the worst thing any of them had ever paid to eat.

"I found us a job," Jarod announced as he sat at the table. He signaled for an ale, not bothering to take in the less-than-excited gazes of his group. Things had been trying lately, little in the way of decent jobs with mercenary work on the rise. Honest enough, but not the best-paying option and more dangerous than it was worth unless you knew what you were about.

"Here or elsewhere?" Cord asked, clearly only caring if they'd need to travel further. The man was heavily built, and travel was harder on him than the others.

"Elsewhere, but we'll take a day's rest first," Jarod offered. That got him the group's attention. They usually were quick on the take when it came to making money. Things having been rough lately they likely expected him to be impatient, and he would have been with other work.

"There was a posting for an adventurer's guild that's recruiting about two days travel into the mountains from here. Say they've got a dungeon somewhere abouts and want people to try their hand at it," Jarod explained. Information he'd have played closer to the vest if it weren't for the box of postings the girl had fished the one he had from.

There was little chance of it not having spread quite a ways from the post town, let alone within it. Whispering about common knowledge would end with them looking like fools or suspicious and he wasn't interested in either thing.

"Boss, that seems… like a bad idea," Quint said softly. He wasn't exactly a coward, but edging from cautious toward it far more than the rest of the daggers. He could also do a bit of magic, so nobody bothered him about it.

"Possibly, but let's have a look, then make up our minds. We'll be there to make money, not put our necks on the line, and if we don't all agree, we split ways if needed," Jarod offered. It was the standard arrangement among them. Nobody had to stay on for a job they didn't like, whatever the reason. Not a common way of doing things, but one that had kept the group fairly harmonious over the years.

"Gods be good, why even bother?" a braying voice asked before cracking into laughter. Daren of the Red Sun was standing with a bottle of wine in hand and a woman on his arm. Jarod looked the lady over but didn't see any signs that she was a working girl and his lips twisted a bit. He could understand someone fucking the man for coin, but the idea of anyone with sense finding him attractive seemed a bit unlikely.

"Fuck off, s'none of your business," Jarod said simply without heat. He disliked Daren but it wasn't as if they normally had much to do with each other other than the passing glare. They worked in the same territory, but it wasn't as if they took jobs from the same places or ever worked together.

Really, Jarod would have been entirely indifferent to the other man's existence if he weren't such a fucking ass. He'd gone so far as to try and hire the rusty dagger as porters once, just to insult them. The worst part was that Jarod would have taken the work if he'd have offered fair wages, but he hadn't, insisting that working for the Red Suns was honor enough to make up the difference. That was an offense too far.

"I should think it is, since it's my band that will rid the valley of that scourge. They won't need a bunch of money-grubbing parasites like you about, and I'd rather not deal with the smell," Daren replied. Cord started to rise, hand on his blade, but Jarod stopped him with a shove on the shoulder.

"Go fuck your lady friend while she's still willing, lest that rot you call a personality put her off," Jarod countered. He wasn't scared of scrapping with the man, particularly since he wasn't wearing any of his shiny armor, but the daggers had paid for a room. If the innkeeper took offense, they'd be cast out and the coin lost and he didn't fancy sleeping in the scrubland around the town.

"Worthless-" Daren's retort was lost at a tug on his sleeve from the lady. It seemed she wasn't interested in the squabble either and a bit embarrassed by Jarods blatant words. He felt a little bad about that, he didn't grudge the woman her pleasures even if he might not think kind of where she sought them.

Once Daren and his companion were gone Jarod gulped down the last of his ale and slammed his tankard onto the table with a thud.

"Think they've got the guts to face the dungeon, or will they go scurrying home after sampling village life?" Pip, the party's rogue, asked mockingly. The others laughed.

"Sleepin’ rough will probably be enough to send them packing," Cord said with a snort.

"We ought to teach those dandies a lesson tomorrow," Pip continued, eyes glinting dangerously. "Maybe if a few of their silks get torn, they'll think twice about speaking to us."

"No trouble here, it's a post town and that means we're still under the Earl's law," Jarod reminded them. Murmurs of agreement rose from around the table. Savex was brutal, and if they did anything untoward it would come out of their hides.

"Rest, we have a bit of a trip ahead of us," he added. He watched the rest of the group get up and go, heading to their shared room. For his own part, he ordered a sad bowl of stew and continued contemplating the choice he'd made. Stories were one thing, he hoped that the riches a dungeon offered even the cautious were even a tenth of what was spoken of. They needed money, but dead men couldn't spend coin.